


all good things come to an end

by aiineslin



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiineslin/pseuds/aiineslin
Summary: the first year after the cancelled apocalypse was a drunk, heady time.





	all good things come to an end

**Author's Note:**

> written out in one sitting, i apologise for grammar errors. i am bad at ending things

The first year after the apocalypse was cancelled was a heady, delightful time. Newt and Hermann were both offered opportunities that were once denied to them – they were asked to lecture at prestigious universities around the world, their papers published in the most recognised journals, and all over the continents, job offers from both the public and private sector poured in.

It was a time to be drunk on success, to bask in the warm glow of one’s hard work and recline satisfied, knowing that _yes_ , the world now saw you for the genius you knew you always were, your name is now known and spoken in the mouths of movers and shakers.

They travelled together as a duo, where one lectured, the other would follow close behind. They lived out of their suitcases, ate terrible processed food and when time permitted, took trips together to the local museums and zoos and occasionally even found time to visit a tourist trap or two. Of course, they screamed a little at each other sometimes, but that was par for the course, truly – and it was much easier to get over quarrels when there was no chance of Newt using questionable kaiju organs as projectile weapons. Raleigh vid-called them once and mid-way through the conversation, said, “I’m surprised you haven’t killed each other.”

Newt had laughed, said, “All that close quarter living in the Shatterdome trained us for this shit.”

Life was good. The days melted into each other in a slurry of productivity, one day was much the same as the other, and one day Newt jabbed Hermann in the side while he was drying out his hair, and Hermann had turned, cursing fluently – only to be stopped by Newt thrusting his phone into his face.

“What on _earth_ , Newt –“

“I’m getting hired!!!”

Only Newt could drop audible exclamation marks into a sentence.

“Oh,” Hermann said, blinking. “I see.”

“It’s from an up and coming company,” said Newt, shaking his phone in Hermann’s face, the words on the screen a blur of white light and black font. “They’ve been recognised by the PPDC for their contributions to –“

He thinks he blocks out the remainder of Newt’s words for the sake of his sanity, but he knows that he congratulates Newt on auto-pilot, and he knows, he definitely knows, that he squashes down the first beginning worms of panic that begin to flutter through his belly.

*

Things come to an end rapidly after that.

Newt is given a date to commence work, and they agree to finish out their remaining conferences together. There are still a few appearances after the date, and when Newt begins to delete Hermann’s name from their shared letter of apology, readying it for sending to the next conference’s organiser – Herman stops him.

“But this is the _Ludwig-Maximillian University of Munich_ ,” says Newt, bewilderment creeping into his voice. “Your _father_ lectures there.”

“Eh,” says Hermann, shrugging in an approximation of Newt’s annoyingly careless shrugs. It comes off a little stiff, uncertain, terribly fake. “It’s okay. I am getting a little tired by now.”

“No way,” says Newt flatly. “You live for this shit. You like seeing all the nerds hang off your every word.”

“I am _tired_ ,” replies Hermann equally flatly. “We have been doing this for a year. I would like to stay in one place for longer than one week. And eat proper food, instead of instant noodles all the time. I have _preferred brands_ now,” He adds with more than a little hint of disgust.

“Rude!” exclaims Newt, reaching out to prod Hermann at the side, only to be foiled by an impatient hiss and a hand batting his questing fingers away. “You like it when I cook instant noodles, I add egg and meat to them, it’s practically a gourmet meal!”

“Newton, the fact that you manage to move your bowels is a scientific miracle.”

“Oh, you want to go there? Well, Hermann –”

The conversation devolves into an argument, and the apology letter goes unsent for the next thirty-four minutes, but when they finally stop and return to it, Newt sends the original letter to the organiser.

*

Stanford University is their last stop, and Newt closes out their lecture to resounding applause, even to some people who stand up and cheer.

Every time this happens (and oh, it does, _often_ ), Hermann feels his face blush fiery red, but Newt seems to puff up and grow a little bigger, and he even waves furiously at the assembled crowd, blowing out kisses, looking for all the world like a rock star.

*

They go to a bar named The Tap Room, and while Hermann sips his beer, Newt goes to town on their pinball machine. After near thirteen minutes of struggle, he gives up, flops down beside Hermann with a loud huff, snagging a fry from their shared plate.

“They cheered for us,” he says for the seventh time around a swiftly masticated fry.

Hermann rolls his eyes up at the ceiling. “I _know_ , I was there.”

“I think I’ll miss this,” Newt brings his burger to his mouth, taking a massive chunk out of it. “Like, I know I’ll also wow the scientists at my workplace, but damn, the rush from a lecture is _incomparable,_ I feel –“

“Like a rock star,” Hermann and Newt say together.

Newt laughs, spraying crumbs everywhere. “You sure you don’t wanna continue this whole teaching thing? Don’t wanna be a professor?”

“No,” says Hermann, cutting away at his steak carefully. “I don’t care for departmental politics. And while you may like children hanging off your every word -”

“Hang on, that’s _you_ -”

“Fine, it’s me. While I like children hanging off my every word, I don’t like taking long-term responsibility for them.”

Newt cocks his head. “Really? Why?”

Hermann shrugs, popping a small cube of meat into his mouth. “I am not the best role model to look up to.” He hesitates for a moment, fork and knife hovering in the air as he collects his thoughts. “I am… I think I can give an adequate lecture, but as a professor, I will have to care about their future, point them in a suitable direction - …”

“Hermann, most professors at this level don’t care about that, they just teach… Unless the student’s a super genius and losing them to, I don’t know, _business management_ would be a blow to the advancement of mankind’s collective knowledge -”

“I care,” Hermann interrupts sharply. “I think. I think it will be nice to inspire my students. I think it will be nice to have them show real interest in the subject.” He pokes at his steak. “I don’t think I can - …” His voice fades, and Hermann abruptly grows very tired. “I think I am unsuitable for the post, that is all.”

When he looks up from his steak, Newton’s eyes are fixed on him. They are oddly gentle.

“Seriously dude?”

“Newton -”

“Because when we lectured at Oxford, we had to stay back for almost two hours because all the kids there wouldn’t stop swarming you –”

“That was -”

“And,” continues Newt, talking loudly over Hermann. “The Taiwan University kids wouldn’t stop asking for photos with you -”

“For the -”

“I saw you do a peace sign, Hermann! A peace sign!”

Hermann sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Newt reaches out, taps Hermann’s hand lightly.

“Most of the kids video-record our lectures, you know that. And you always get questions after your segment.”

“I know.”

“You’re doing a pretty great job of catching their interest,” says Newt, leaning back, finishing off the last of his burger. “Not as good as me, of course,”

“You’re a pigheaded, inflated balloon of a man, Newt.”

“I _know_ ,” says Newt happily.

*

The Tap Room is close to Stanford University, and as the night wound on, a continuous flow of students dropped by their table with free drinks and food. It got so that they did not pay for their rest of their food and drinks up till they left the bar, Newt leaning on Hermann’s shoulder, clinging on for dear life.

“I hate you,” mutters Hermann for the umpteenth time as he and the Uber driver manoeuvre Newt out of the car and hobble towards the hotel lobby. Hermann makes sure he tips the Uber driver well, though he is somewhat sure their rating will be low and terrible (as usual).

“No you don’t,” snipes Newt, but even while drunk, he still does his utmost best to walk on his own, until Hermann catches him by the shoulder and brings him closer to his side.

“I’m not a weakling,” says Hermann drily as they wait for the elevator to take them up to their suite. “I can take a little extra weight. Even though you are horribly fat.”

“You’re the unhealthy beanpole!” yelps Newt, but he settles himself further against Hermann, though he still takes care to angle himself a little away from Hermann’s side.

Once in their suite, Hermann shakes Newt off on to his bed and gets to work removing his shoes.

“Thank you, Hermann,” says Newt in German, his voice loud in the quiet room.

“No problem,” replies Hermann, tugging off Newt’s left sock. “You need to wash your socks.”

“Oh,” says Newt, a crooked smile wending its  way across his face. “It’s okay. I can just buy new ones. They’re paying me a lot at my new job, you know.”

“What a terrible waste of money,” snaps Hermann, pulling off Newt’s right sock with uncommon force. Leaning over, he pinches Newt’s glasses between thumb and forefinger, removing them. “You are so utterly wasteful, Newton.”

Newt continues smiling up at Hermann, fuzzily, blearily. “Won’t you come with me? To this new job?”

Hermann pauses. Folds Newton’s glasses up, puts them neatly on the bedside table. “The PPDC is offering me a raise. I have agreed to their offer.”

“But if you came with me, we would be together,” whispers Newt almost sadly.

Hermann’s face tightens a little. “You can stay,” he suggests quietly.

“No,” murmurs Newt. “They’re paying _a lot_ , Herms… They’re saying they have access to the black market, Herms, salvaged kaiju parts, imagine… Lesser restrictions. Cutting edge technology…”

Hermann nods, precisely, sharply. If Newt was less drunk, he would stop, but this is drunk Newt, and he continues.

“I can do great things there.”

Hermann rises to his feet, pulls a blanket roughly over Newt. “Good night, Newton.”

“I’ll miss you,” Newt says when Hermann has returned to his own bed.

Hermann freezes, but Newt says nothing more. The man has sunk into dreams, snoring a little in his sleep.

*

The next day, Newt is cotton-mouthed and headachey, complaining about the brightness of the light and the loudness of noises.

“You deserve it,” Hermann informs him placidly as he shoves his clothes into his luggage, taking care to make as much noise as possible. “I told you not to drink so much.”

“ _Free drinks_ , Hermann. Free drinks.”

“That is a terrible excuse to -…”

Amazingly enough, the argument perks Newt up and they continue to snipe at each other all through the morning, until they reach the airport and they find that their gates are on separate ends of the airport.  

“Well,” says Newt, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “ _Well._ ”

“Well,” parrots Hermann back, drumming his fingers on his cane.

“I’ll miss you,” they say together.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Herms,” says Newt.

“Don’t be such a child, Newton,” says Hermann.

They look at each other, and abruptly, they hug – awkwardly, yes, because the height difference is undeniable – and they separate with loud, gruff pats on the back.

Newt’s eyes are too bright behind his coke-bottle glasses and he says, “Take care, Herms! Don’t forget to eat.”

“You too,” mutters Hermann. “Please wash your underwear.”

Newt cackles and he takes off into the direction of his gate without a second glance back.

And Hermann is alone in the crowd, a man with an old cane and an overly large luggage bag. He peers into the distance for a beat, trying to spot Newt – but it is difficult, there is a crowd and Newt is _small_.

So Hermann sighs, turns on his heel carefully, and heads towards his gate.

*

He does not know it will be near a decade before he is able to talk to Newt again.

But for now, he keeps the memories of this year, this drunken delight of a year, close to his heart.


End file.
